


Twine Mistletoe and Holly

by zjofierose



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Party, First Kiss, Fluff, Holidays, Keith knows what he doesn't like, Kissing, M/M, Matt Holt & Shiro Friendship, Mistletoe, Pre-Kerberos Mission, Sheith Secret Santa 2018, Shiro is so helpful, Tipsy!Shiro, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 01:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17132330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zjofierose/pseuds/zjofierose
Summary: The thing about kissing under the mistletoe is that it's trite and silly and so very, very public, none of which is what Keith wants from this.





	Twine Mistletoe and Holly

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s note: Pre-Kerb, Adam who?
> 
> Written for the 2018 Sheith Secret Santa challenge, for @irani-owl. Happy Holidays!!

The music is loud even from outside the gymnasium, which Keith has to admit has been cleaned up to a remarkable degree. Inside it’s not quite deafening, but music is definitely playing at a volume that requires the shouting of any attempted speech. The entire space has been redone for the occasion: the lights are low and the walls have been hung with what seems, upon close inspection, to be navy tarping, but which in the dim light still manages to create a relatively classy effect. At the far end of the room is a projected centerpiece featuring a holographic scene of a winter wonderland, complete with evergreen forest, snow, and starry sky. Keith has never seen snow, so he can’t say how accurate it is, but it looks nice. 

Keith adjusts the collar of his button front shirt uncomfortably. It’s the one item of clothing he owns that’s neither a t-shirt or a uniform, and he hasn’t worn it since before he enlisted. It’s a more than a little too short in the sleeves and constrictingly tight at the collar. He tugs at his borrowed tie in absent-minded frustration with one hand, watching as the crowd of officers and cadets mingle in front of him. 

He’d managed to skip the Winter Formal last year, and he’d nearly managed it this year, but Shiro’d caught on to him and demanded that he put in an appearance. Well. As much as Shiro ever demands anything, which meant that he’d made a disappointed face when he’d found out that Keith was planning to skip, and then immediately offered to skip with him to keep him company, even though everyone knew that Shiro loved the quarterly Garrison parties, and the Winter Formal best of all of them. How was Keith supposed to look Shiro in the eye and say he wouldn’t come when doing so would lead to Shiro being sad? He just didn’t have it in him. So, he’d dug out his old dress shirt and ironed it, rolled his eyes and let Shiro wrap a tie around his neck, and come. 

Shiro is, predictably, surrounded by friends and hangers-on at the center of the room. He’s already at least somewhat tipsy, judging by the flush in his cheeks that Keith can see even from where he’s standing and holding up the wall. The news about Shiro’s assignment to the Kerberos mission hasn’t been made public yet, but Shiro’s told a select few people, including Keith, and Keith has started trying to burn every last image he sees of Shiro into his brain to last him through the upcoming year of Shiro’s absence. He takes a mental freezeframe of this: Shiro in a white dress shirt with his tie loosened, collar unbuttoned, and sleeves rolled up to show his strong forearms. His eyes are nearly shut and his mouth open wide in laughter, his cheeks rosy with excitement, heat, and drink.

A year. Keith can hardly imagine it. It’s been two and a half of them since he joined the Garrison, and another year and a half until he’ll graduate up the ranks. Nearly three years since he first laid eyes on Takashi Shirogane at the front of his classroom, since the same Takashi Shirogane had given him a second chance. Their friendship had bloomed in the adversity of Keith’s temper and Shiro’s schedule, weathering both to bring them closer than any relationship Keith’s ever had, save with his father. Trust was hard come by for Keith, but Shiro had his completely, as well as his loyalty and devotion. 

Out on the dance floor Shiro throws his head back and laughs before launching into moves that only succeed because it’s Shiro. Matt Holt is standing near him, and bursts into a fit of the giggles, his own face pink with alcohol and delight. They deserve it, Keith thinks with fierce pride, they deserve to be the first out there, because they are the best, and everyone knows it. He will miss Shiro like a lost limb, like a misplaced organ, but he could never begrudge him this opportunity. 

Keith finishes the bottle of beer he’s been nursing, having already chugged his first, and strolls toward the doorway to drop it in the recycler. Technically only the officers are supposed to be drinking, but everyone turns a blind eye so long as none of the cadets start any trouble. He doesn’t drink often, so the pair of beers he’s had in the last hour is sufficient to make him feel unpleasantly warm as he walks steadily but a little fuzzily toward the exit. It’s loud enough and he’s distracted enough that Keith doesn’t hear Shiro come up beside him until he’s standing in the doorway, hand paused over the recyclables disposal, and he startles when a heavy hand lands on his shoulder.

“Keith!” Shiro shouts into his ear, and Keith drops the bottle and turns to take in Shiro’s contrite face. “I’m so sorry! I made you come, but I’ve been ignoring you all night!!”

Keith smiles, because he can’t help but smile at Shiro, and pats the hand on his shoulder. “It’s ok, Shiro. You were having fun.”

“I can have fun with you!” Shiro beams, then notices the direction Keith is facing. His face falls immediately. “Are you leaving already?”

“Yeah,” Keith says with an apologetic look, “the music’s giving me a headache. Thought I’d get some air.” It’s a bald-faced lie - he fully intends to go back to his room and play video games - but Shiro won’t think it through until tomorrow, so that’s ok.

“I could come with you?” Shiro asks anxiously, but Keith just shakes his head. 

“No, Shiro, you stay here.” He smiles reassuringly. “You can have my fun for me, that way it won’t go to waste.” 

It makes no sense whatsoever, but Shiro nods agreeably, smiling again, and Keith considers his work here finished. They’re sharing a nice moment, gazing amicably into each others eyes, Keith’s hand still covering Shiro’s where it sits on his shoulder, when Keith becomes aware of shouting and gesturing in their vicinity. He turns curiously to figure out what’s going on, and spies Matt closing in on them, face gleeful and hand pointing above them. It takes him a full two seconds to catch on, but when he does, Keith can feel his stomach hit his shoes.

If he hadn’t had the beer, and was thinking a little more quickly on his feet, he would have ignored Matt, patted Shiro’s hand, and walked away quickly before Shiro cottoned on that anything was happening. But because he’s a little slow, because he’s not firing on quite all of his cylinders, Keith raises his head like an idiot to stare open-mouthed at the bunch of mistletoe hanging directly above their heads.

Shiro’s gaze follows his, the implications registering on his face at the same time that Matt’s shouted “Hey ninnies, you gotta  _ kiss _ ,” reaches their ears.

It feels like slow motion, the look of embarrassment that flies across Shiro’s face only to be replaced by determination as his hand tightens on Keith’s shoulder, and no, no,  _ nope _ , Keith cannot do this. He loves Shiro, there’s no sense of denial about it, and he would be  _ more  _ than happy to kiss him, but there is no way that he wants that to happen while Shiro’s at least one sheet to the wind and they’re standing in public, when Keith knows it’s only happening because of a holiday gag. He’s sure his panic shows on his face, but Shiro’s never one to quit and is already leaning in, eyes closing, so Keith does the only thing he knows to do and runs.

\--

The cold night air of the desert is sobering, and after a few laps around the Garrison grounds, Keith feels sufficiently clear-headed enough to plunk himself on a bench and bury his head in his hands. What was he thinking? Couldn’t he just have gone along with it? Everyone gets caught under the mistletoe, that’s the fun of it; it’s a joke, a gag. It’s not a big deal, it’s not something you’re supposed to freak out about. It’s not like it would have  _ meant  _ anything.

Keith sighs and rubs at his temples. That’s exactly the problem, he thinks resignedly: it wouldn’t have meant anything. That’s not what he wants, that’s never been what he’s wanted. He doesn’t do public, doesn’t do meaningless. And Shiro… Shiro means too much to Keith for something quite that trivial. 

He can hear the distant sounds of the formal breaking up behind him, which means he’s been out here too long. Sure enough, poking his fingers experimentally into each other produces little sensation, and his ears are burning. It’s well past time for him to get inside, aversion to fellow humans or not. He rubs his hands roughly together, blowing on them as he stands and makes his way back to his dorm.

\--

An hour later, stripped out of his too-small shirt and wrapped in his blankets, Keith still can’t let it go. He’d run away from Shiro like a crazy person, and god only knows what Shiro thought of that. Knowing Shiro, he probably blames himself for it; probably thinks that Keith was so horrified at the idea of kissing Shiro that he couldn’t stand it, which… is true, but not for the reasons Shiro would come up with.

Keith kicks the blankets off, sliding his feet into his slippers and his arms into his jacket. Shiro is too important to him, their friendship is too important to him, to let this go unaddressed. If Shiro’s feelings are hurt, or if he thinks that he upset Keith, that’s not something Keith is willing to let just lie. 

He has to fix this.

\--

“Keith?”

Shiro doesn’t look like Keith’s woken him, which is good. He’s undressed to his undershirt and a pair of sweatpants, which Keith manfully ignores in the same way he’s trained himself to always ignore what it’s like to be confronted with Shiro in a state of undress. Shiro’s cheeks are still a little pink as he stands in the doorway blinking at Keith, but he looks much more sober than he did three hours ago, which is good for the purposes of Keith’s visit. 

“Hey,” Keith says quietly. “Can I come in? I wanted to talk to you.”

An unnameable expression flickers across Shiro’s face, but he holds the door open for Keith to enter without hesitation. “Of course. Come on in.”

Keith walks past him and sits on the end of Shiro’s bunk where he always does. It’s his spot for when they’re doing homework, or watching a movie, or just talking late into the night. Shiro moves around the room, from desk to floor to bed, but Keith sets up camp in the two square feet at the end of Shiro’s mattress and lives there.

This time, Shiro settles in front of him on the floor, legs crossed, and watches quietly as Keith anxiously twists his hands, trying to think of how to begin.

“Is this about what happened earlier?” Shiro asks after a long moment, dark eyes careful on Keith’s face. 

“Yeah,” Keith admits, raising his head to look Shiro in the eye. “I just…”

“No, Keith,” Shiro reaches out to rest a hand on Keith’s leg where it hangs off the edge of the bunk. “I owe you an apology. I know you’re not comfortable with most touch, and definitely not with public affection, but I wasn’t thinking. And I know we’re friends, and I would never want to cross any lines that would put that in jeopardy. I’m so sorry I made you uncomfortable.” His face is completely serious, his eyes so earnest it makes Keith want to scream with frustration. He shakes his head sharply instead, reaching out to lay his hand over Shiro’s. The contact grounds him, just like any touch of Shiro’s always does.

“No, Shiro, it wasn’t that,” he exhales hard at the confusion on Shiro’s face. There’s not going to be any getting this cleared up without baring a little more of his feelings than he’s usually comfortable with, that much is clear. But it’s Shiro, he tells himself, Shiro who always takes him seriously, Shiro who has never once laughed at him with any sort of derision or mockery, who supports him endlessly and listens to every idea or concern he has, no matter how strange or trivial. There’s no one better to trust with his secrets, so he smiles gently at his friend, even if the expression still feels awkward on his face, even after all this time.

“It wasn’t that I was… upset about kissing  _ you _ ,” Keith starts, and can’t help the rush of affection he feels as Shiro’s eyebrow tips up. “I just… I don’t want my first kiss to be like that. To be a joke. A gag.” 

He ducks his head as understanding blooms across Shiro’s face. As safe as he feels with Shiro, it still feels like a dumb thing to admit to, but oh well. It’s how he is, he can’t help it.

“I see,” Shiro says, his thumb moving reassuringly across Keith’s shin. “I didn’t realize.”

“I know,” Keith says, “but I didn’t want you to think I was uncomfortable about it because it was  _ you _ . You’re… everything to me, you know that,” he finishes lamely. It’s not a confession, it’s just a truth, and one that that’s been acknowledged before. “I didn’t want you to think I was upset with you, or afraid of you, or anything like that.”

“Okay,” Shiro says calmly, “thank you for telling me. I appreciate it.” Keith looks up, and Shiro’s smiling at him again, and it’s worth every ounce of embarrassment Keith feels about this whole situation to see Shiro’s face clean of worry. “Can I hug you?” Shiro asks tentatively, and Keith nods vigorously, making Shiro chuckle as he rises to his knees and reaches out for him. Keith goes into his embrace with the ease of long familiarity, wrapping his arms around Shiro’s broad shoulders as Shiro tucks his face into Keith’s neck.

“We good?” Keith mumbles into the front of Shiro’s undershirt as they breathe together. 

“Yeah,” Shiro nods into Keith’s throat. “Of course. We’re good.” He holds Keith close for a moment longer before releasing him and sitting back on his heels. He’s smiling, and Keith exhales in relief, so glad this hadn’t turned into a bigger deal than it needed to. He’s relieved enough that he doesn’t notice the speculative look that crosses Shiro’s face.

“What do you want it to be like?” Shiro asks, and Keith stares at him in confusion.

“Huh?”

“Your first kiss,” Shiro clarifies, his mouth twitching up at the corner. “Since you’ve clearly put some thought into this.”

“Oh.” Keith can feel his cheeks lighting up with a dull burn of embarrassment. “Uh. I don’t really know. Just. Not a joke.”

“That’s fair,” Shiro nods encouragingly, “what else?”

“Um. It doesn’t need to be a big deal? I just want it to be nice. Someone I like, maybe someone who knows what they’re doing, since I don’t.” Keith shrugs. “I haven’t really given it  _ that  _ much thought. I just know what I  _ don’t  _ want, I guess.”

“That makes sense,” Shiro agrees. “It sounds nicer than my first kiss, anyway,” he says, and laughs. 

“What?” Keith can’t help but grin, “What happened with yours?”

“Oh, god,” Shiro rubs a hand through his hair at the memory and laughs again, “I was fourteen and it was bad.” He shakes his head in remembered amusement. “Our noses bonked, he bit my lip. Neither of us could figure out the angle or how to breathe. We kind of gave it up as a bad job after about a minute.” He grins up at Keith, and Keith snorts in disbelief. He can’t even picture awkward fourteen year old Shiro, if he’s honest- it’s too far a cry from the Shiro he knows now. 

“Yeah,” Keith nods sagely, folding his arms “not that. I’d like not that.” 

“Haha,” Shiro says, nudging his knee. “Well, Mr. Perfect First Kiss, do you have a partner picked out?”

“Nah,” Keith says, shaking his head and nudging Shiro back with his toe. “Honestly, I kinda want to get it over with? I just feel like the longer I wait, the more it’s going to get built up, and that always ends badly.”

Shiro hums thoughtfully, and Keith can’t quite read his expression. Silence falls between them, but it’s easy, Shiro’s mind ticking over and Keith waiting him out. Finally Shiro looks up at him again, and there’s the faintest hint of uncertainty in his eyes. 

“What about me?” he asks, and Keith frowns.

“What about you?” Keith answers, and Shiro rolls his eyes. 

“You could kiss me,” Shiro says, and Keith nearly chokes on his own tongue. “We’re not in public,” Shiro holds up a finger, “it’s definitely not a joke,” he says, holding up a second. “As far as I know, you like me pretty well,” he says with the third, laughing as Keith smacks him on the shoulder, “and,” he says, adding a fourth and looking at Keith earnestly, “it wouldn’t have to be a big deal. No fuss, no muss, and then you don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

“You know what you’re doing?” Keith asks teasingly, his brain grasping at straws to diffuse the situation while at least half of it is completely stalled out at the very idea of kissing Shiro. _ Kissing Shiro, _ he thinks,  _ what _ .

“Yeah,” Shiro says softly, holding his gaze, and Keith bites his lip as his stomach sprouts a whole flock of butterflies, “yeah, I do.”

“Okay,” Keith whispers, and nods hard in case he’s not being clear enough, “okay.”

“You sure?” Shiro asks, leaning up on his knees again, but not touching Keith yet, just pushing at the edge of his personal space. There’s a look in his eye that Keith has never seen, and it’s gripping around his heart like a vice. The tone in Shiro’s voice is equal parts caution and challenge, and Keith has never turned away from a challenge in his life.

“Yeah,” he says, licking his lips, and Shiro smiles long and slow, one hand coming out to tuck two fingers behind the soft interior of Keith’s elbow, loosening his arms from where they’re folded across his chest while the other slides around Keith’s ribs.

“C’mere,” Shiro says quietly, and the hand behind Keith’s elbow guides his arm up and around Shiro’s neck, settling it into place and sliding down to rest lightly on his bicep. Shiro scoots forward in a smooth motion and Keith’s knees part for him instinctively, making room for Shiro’s body close to his. Shiro’s face is too near, too beautiful, and Keith closes his eyes as Shiro catches Keith’s chin in his fingers and pulls him in.

The first touch of Shiro’s lips to his is soft, unimposing; a greeting, Keith thinks. It’s Shiro setting him at ease, because that’s who Shiro is, always concerned with the well-being of those around him. It’s wonderful, and Keith wants more, so he lets his hand clutch at the back of Shiro’s neck and presses their mouths together harder, letting Shiro tip his head to better accommodate his insistence. 

He can feel Shiro’s smile against his mouth even as it moves over his own, but the way that Shiro’s fingers wind into his hair makes him gasp in surprise. Shiro takes advantage of the motion, sliding his tongue along Keith’s lips in question, and Keith opens for him like a flower to the sun, letting Shiro in as he grasps at Shiro’s shirt and his own sanity with both hands. 

It’s more than Keith had ever imagined, the slide of Shiro’s mouth against his own, the intimacy of their lips and tongues moving together, the subtle alignment of their breath, their bodies curving in mirrored arcs to meet each other. It’s more than he’d ever thought he could ask from Shiro, and he knows in the small, distant part of his mind that isn’t fully subsumed into the present that this is a memory he will treasure silently for all the time that Shiro is away from him. 

It lasts an eternity, and also only a long moment, and then Shiro’s pulling gently back, his grey eyes dark and his lips pink with fading pleasure. 

“Good?” he asks with a lazy smile, and Keith wants to scowl at him for his smugness, but he can’t school his features into the right shape. 

“Yeah,” Keith gets out finally, when his heart rate has slowed enough that he can speak, forcing his fingers to unclench from the back of Shiro’s shirt as he smiles back. “Thanks.”

“Happy to help,” Shiro says, settling back on his heels again and rubbing a hand through his hair, and Keith just shakes his head and laughs.

\--

_ Much later _

Many things on Earth have changed in their years away, Keith thinks, but apparently long-standing Garrison traditions are not one of them. It’s just his own bad luck that the Paladins of Voltron and the Captain of the Atlas are honored guests at the first Garrison Winter Formal to be held since the liberation of Earth. There’s really no getting out of it this time.

Across the room Shiro catches his eye and smiles, and Keith rolls his eyes before downing his beer. Shiro’s larger and older, hair gone white and arm just gone, but he’s still the most compelling person in the room, and Keith is happy to hang to the side and watch him hold court on the dance floor.

Still, it’s all a bit much after a while, the people and the noise, so Keith twirls his empty bottle in his fingers and heads for the door, figuring he’ll toss it and go for a walk, get some fresh air and clear his head before coming back to play nice with the others. He makes his way through the crowd, nodding and smiling and shaking hands as needed, slipping away as quickly as he can, hoping no one will notice the leader of Voltron sneaking out the back.

He feels Shiro coming for him as he nears escape, preternaturally attuned to Shiro’s presence after years of fighting by his side and the connection they share through the Black Lion, but Keith ignores him, dropping his bottle in the recycler even as Shiro’s hand lands on his shoulder.

“Heading out for some fresh air?” Shiro asks with a smile, and Keith just nods, letting himself stand and gaze at the face he’s lost so many times. It’s a gift, to be here with him now, after everything, and Keith will never, never, take it for granted.

“ _ Hey _ ,” Matt’s voice comes to them from across the room, and they turn as one to see him pointing gleefully to the ceiling. “Look up!” he shouts, and their eyes catch and hold before drifting upward to the bundle of green leaves and white berries hanging above them. 

Shiro’s smile is soft, and it lights up every corner of Keith’s being as his hand comes up to cup Keith’s cheek. 

“May I?” Shiro whispers, his eyes glowing with joy, and Keith nods breathlessly, wrapping his arms around Shiro’s neck as Shiro pulls him in and presses their mouths together. A cheer arises from the crowd around them, but all Keith can hear is the sound of their hearts beating as he loses himself to Shiro’s kiss.

 


End file.
